


Never Can Say Goodbye

by rightonthelimit



Series: Tom/Harry Drabble Collection [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 07:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightonthelimit/pseuds/rightonthelimit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Tom wonders why he puts up with Harry, but it seems Harry never allows him to forget completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Can Say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this beautiful photograph: http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m43qvwzrnY1rvifgmo1_500.jpg

**A/N: Please do not repost, recreate or translate.**

**Never Can Say Goodbye**

** **

Harry's a brat.  
  
He's an insufferable, annoying, thickheaded, idiotic, childish, insane  _brat_.  
  
Harry likes to have sex at inappropriate places, loves to get on Tom's nerves, sometimes gets mad at Tom for things that don't even make any sense. Harry's a prideful mess who randomly jumps Tom and kisses him at one moment, and has his fists shaking by his sides in restraint anger in the next.  
  
Harry throws things at Tom when he gets mad. Picture frames, alarm clocks, vases, lamps, books. Tom's expensive watches or bottles of cologne. Harry couldn't care less about their worth - if it's in his reach and he happens to get pissed, he  _will_ throw it.   
  
Harry isn't elegant. He sleeps with his mouth wide open and he hogs up all the sheets. His feet feel like clumps of ice when they'd brush against Tom's calves in the middle of the night and if Tom was unlucky Harry would snore as well. Harry yells at their tv when people on the screen are doing something he doesn't like ( _'No, you idiot, he's going to chop off your_ leg  _if you go to the basement! Your boyfriend is the killer, why can't you see that you stupid moron?!')_ and Harry can't cook to save his life.  
  
So then why does Tom put up with him?  
  
It's something that Tom often asks himself after yet another one of their fights. Sometimes, Tom lies awake at night, trying to remember what life before Harry was like and if it would ever be the same if Tom would leave him.  
  
Sometimes Tom even toyed with the idea of trying it out. Just for the hell of it. He always had been the kind of man who refused to back down from a challenge, after all.  
  
Harry grins cheekily and pulls his shirt off, climbing on top of Tom whose clothes were already strewed across the floor of their new apartment. They only have a couch so far, the movers will bring in their bed tomorrow.  
  
The leather sticks uncomfortably to Tom's skin and he feels himself smile when Harry leans down and presses a hand at the center of his chest, seeking out his heartbeat, his lips almost sweetly brushing over Tom's. His glasses were lying somewhere on the floor as well, forgotten and abandoned.  
  
Tom doesn't know why.  
  
It isn't like Tom can't find someone who has more money than Harry, or someone who is more, well,  _normal_ by society's standards than Harry is. Someone who won't chuck Tom's most prized possessions at his head if Tom did something to displease him, like insulting his best friend because the asshole decided to just stand Tom's lover up.  
  
Harry smiles against his lips and shivers when Tom brings up his hand to caress his lower back, moaning softly.  
  
But the truth is that Tom won't be able to find someone who is like  _Harry_. He won't find another guy with the guts to stand up to him the way Harry did, he won't find anyone who is this good to him.  
  
Harry rocks his hips down on Tom's and groans, his eyes closing and his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.  
  
Never would Tom find anyone as passionate as Harry. As unique, as crazy as him.   
  
Tom mourns the loss of that watch Harry had flung at his head this morning, the one that had broken as soon as it hit the wall when Tom ducked his head to avoid getting a black eye. But it is replaceable.  
  
Harry sucks on Tom's bottom lip and Tom groans, low and dark in his throat before switching their positions. Harry wraps his legs around Tom's waist and instantly pulls him close, his hand sliding through Tom's hair.  
  
Harry was most definitely not.  
  
And Tom loved him, for that.

 


End file.
